Honest Traitors

By Laura Schiller

Based on: Star Trek: Voyager

Copyright: CBS

Author's Note: This story was written for scifiromance, who asked for "a frank conversation" between Chakotay and Seven during the episode "The Gift", shortly after he severs her from the Collective.

This is not a C/7 story. Early-season-4 Seven is in no way ready for that. But if any of you are dedicated J/C shippers, I advise you not to read this, since neither Kathryn herself nor the potential of a J/C relationship appears to advantage in this story.

/

Chakotay approached the brig and its Borg prisoner with deep reluctance.

When he thought of the memories he had seen through the Borg transceiver link – the happy little girl running across the meadow and into her parents' arms – his heart ached with pity for what the Collective had done to her. But the way she was now, all steel and nanoprobes and mindless contempt, she made his skin crawl.

Only an order from the Captain could have made him enter this room.

"I can't get through to her," she'd confessed, pinching the bridge of her nose as if to ward off a headache. "But maybe you can. You're the one who had the neural link with her. Get down there and be diplomatic, won't you? Let her know that all we want is to help her become human again."

Chakotay resented her use of the word "we". If it were up to him, Voyager would have never gotten involved with the Borg in the first place. But that was Kathryn Janeway for you, he thought. She never took no for an answer.

Lieutenant Ayala stepped back to let Chakotay pass in front of the cell. Seven of Nine was pacing back and forth, her metal joints stiff and unnatural in their movement. He wondered if she was in pain, then was angry with himself for worrying about that. She'd beaten Harry unconscious and tried to throw Voyager to the Collective. If being in the Brig was difficult for her, it was her own fault.

The Doctor's report that her human immune system was fighting to reject her Borg components was visibly apparent. Her skin was less gray than it had been when they'd first met, and several chunks of armor plating were gone. Strips of silver dermoplastic covered her left shoulder. She looked more vulnerable this way, but also more dangerous. A trapped animal, as his father had taught him during hunting lessons, was the most likely to bite.

"You." Her tone of voice was certainly biting. "You betrayed our alliance. You severed this drone from the Collective. How dare you come here?"

For a moment, Chakotay was so filled with rage that he could hardly breathe, let alone answer. She'd accuse him of betraying the alliance – after everything she'd done?

True, the first time they'd met, he had just beamed her and her teammates over from a cube which they had sacrificed to protect Voyager. And when she'd asked him for help in return, he'd refused. But that "help" had involved taking Voyager into the heart of Borg space, and he still believed that would have been a mistake.

"I was right not to trust you, wasn't I?" he retorted. "You've been taking every chance you get to assimilate us all."

"We are Borg."

Gods, the way she said that. Like it was a title of nobility. He clenched his jaw and locked his hands behind his back. "Obviously."

"Have you come to destroy this drone like you did the others?"

For a moment, he was severely tempted to do just that. All he'd have to do was send Ayala out of the room – the ex-Maquis obeyed him without question – take over the computer console, drain the oxygen out of the cell behind that force field, or perhaps beam her into space.

But he mastered the impulse – not just because the Captain would shut him into that cell next, but because he had learned through hard experience that hate would never solve his problems. Hating Seska had only made it easier for her to manipulate him; hating the Cardassians hadn't brought his family back to life. Hating Seven of Nine would do nothing to heal the rift her arrival had torn between him and Kathryn. Nor would it do anything to help that lost little girl trapped inside the Borg woman's mind.

"No," he said, forcing the word out from the back of his throat. "Whatever you might think about our lack of harmony, we do follow a chain of command. If Captain Janeway says you're to join our crew, than that's what will happen. Face it."

The way she stared at him out of her one good eye gave him the creeps. "You should have killed us when you had the chance."

For the first time in this twisted situation, Chakotay's sense of irony came to his aid. "Oh, really?" he shot back. "Your words might say one thing, but your actions another. It seems to me like you're willing to survive at any cost. Ensign Kim – that's the name of the man you attacked, by the way, Ensign Harry Kim – he's our Operations Officer. His sensor logs show us that you clung to the edge of that airlock with all the strength you had. Why didn't the other drones think of doing that, hm? Why just you?"

He had asked himself that out of resentment at the time – why did she have to be so inconvenient to get rid of? – but now, he found himself genuinely curious as well as resentful. All Borg drones were supposed to be equal; that was whole point of the Collective. Why would one of them show more initiative than another? Somewhere in the back of his mind, he even respected her a little. Borg or not, at least she had guts.

"They could not act without instructions from the Collective."

That troubled Chakotay more than he would admit, that he had murdered four people who were unable to defend themselves. They weren't the first deaths he had on his conscience and (knowing the Delta Quadrant) wouldn't be the last, but it was never easy. If this stubborn excuse for a woman hadn't clung to the airlock, he would have had her death on his conscience too.

"But you could?"

"I didn't want to die. I wanted … "

She paused in her clockwork circling around the cell and stood still. Her human eye widened. A look of confusion passed over her face. Had she just noticed the same thing Chakotay had – the word I, falling from her lips as if it came naturally?

Her confusion turned to anger. "You are attempting to deceive us," she snapped, backing up into the corner furthest from him and hunching into herself like a wildcat preparing to pounce. "Your rhetoric is irrelevant. This drone will return to the Collective or be destroyed in the attempt!"

That would have sounded very intimidating, Chakotay thought wryly, very Borg-like and all that. If only she weren't so obviously worried that I'm right.

For a traitor, she was remarkably easy to read. In that sense, perhaps she'd never been a traitor at all; she had certainly been honest about the Collective's intentions during every step of their short alliance. Seska, Riley and Valerie had all been far more skilled at manipulation.

So, in her way, was Kathryn, although he counted himself fortunate enough to be on her side. But he still knew that the more affectionate she was with him, the higher the likelihood that she was planning something dangerous and didn't want to hear his objections. This alliance with the Borg was the perfect example. Patting his chest had been the first warning sign.

Once again, he was grateful that she'd turned down his romantic overture when they'd been stranded together last year. It was difficult enough to be friends when she pulled rank on him every time they disagreed. Being a couple would have been next to impossible, especially during a crisis like this.

Now, thanks to the Captain and her negotiation tactics, they had a hostile Borg drone on their hands. But Kathryn was still his friend, thought Chakotay. For her sake, he would give it his best shot.

"Like it or not," he said, "You do have an individual streak in you that even the Borg couldn't stamp out. You don't want to die, you said so yourself. You want to survive. So does this crew. We can still help each other do that."

"You do not understand." Seven's sharp robotic voice wavered, and her eye blinked rapidly. "I will not survive for long. You cannot possibly know what it is to be one in a Collective of billions, and then … and then to lose them."

If she were human, he could have sworn that she was about to cry. Did the Borg have tear ducts? Evidently this one did. Her human hand came up to swipe roughly at her eye.

"As a matter of fact, I do know," said Chakotay, in a softer voice than he had intended "I was part of a Borg Collective once. Where do you think I got the transceiver I used to link with you? Leaving them was one of the hardest things I ever had to do … and now I thank my guiding spirits that I did."

She lowered her arm slowly and stared at him in disbelief. "The Collective has no record of you or your vessel. Explain."

"My shuttle crashed on a planet where a group of survivors from a wrecked Borg cube were living. The destruction of the cube had severed their link to the Collective, but they were still working together as individuals."

"Impossible."

"It's true. They helped me recover from my injuries after the shuttle crash. The transceiver was to form a temporary neural link so they could heal me. It was … " He broke off, blushing, as memories of making love to Riley threatened to surface. That part of the story was nobody's business, especially not Seven's. "It was transcendental," he finally said. "Let's leave it at that."

Seven's suspicion faded. Instead she inched forward, as close to the force field as possible without getting an electric shock, and blinked away her tears with a look that almost resembled empathy. She had a beautiful face, he noticed for the first time. Her bone structure could have been carved out of marble by Maestro da Vinci, and her good eye was a very bright blue.

Empathy from a Borg? Surely not.

"Then you do know," she said.

"Yes. I know."

"How were you separated? Did Captain Janeway force you to leave?"

"No." Although he wouldn't put it past her. "The Cooperative – that's what they called themselves – was in conflict. Their leader wanted to re-establish the hive mind to make them stop fighting, and she asked me for help in repairing the generator from the cube. I refused, so she used the transceiver to take control of my mind. If one of my shipmates hadn't snapped the link by stunning me with a phaser, I'd still be a drone today. You see now why I don't trust the Borg?"

"And do you see now," she retorted, "Why resistance to the Collective is futile?"

This, he thought, this was what Kathryn failed to understand. She thought she could rehabilitate a Borg drone with a few kind words and a cup of coffee. She'd only seen Riley's Cooperative from the safe confines of her ready room. She had no idea how seductive the hive mind could be.

If he had needed to be shot at by Tuvok to free himself after only a few minutes, and the Cooperative had fallen right back into the hive mind even after five years coping without it, how was Seven of Nine supposed to adjust after 18 years? From a certain point of view, a quick death might even be merciful compared to what she must be suffering right now.

Still, she had held on to life in that airlock. And part of her was still holding on, or she wouldn't be lucid enough to argue with him like this.

Damn, she was strong. What in the world were they supposed to do with her?

"Seems like we're at a stalemate," he said, with a sigh. "You know you can't stay in that cell forever."

"Then release me!"

"Only if you promise to abide by our rules."

"You are no different from the Borg, to confine me this way." She pounded the force field with her fist, hissing in pain at the result. Her face, twisted with rage, was not remotely beautiful anymore.

"But you must be," Chakotay replied, "If you're so attached to your free will. Think about that."

He turned on his heel and prepared to leave.

Behind his back, the Borg woman let out a wild and wordless shriek he would never have expected from someone who was supposed to be mostly machine. The force field buzzed nastily, as if she'd hurled herself against it. Chakotay shuddered, both afraid of her and afraid for her, and left the room at a walk that was almost a run.

"Chakotay to Janeway," he said, marching down the hallway in double-time.

"Janeway here."

"I can't get through to her either. If anything, I may have made things worse. Maybe you should get back down there – or else call the Doctor."

"The Doctor?" Kathryn's voice rose in alarm. "Why?"

"She's trying to break through the force field. She might hurt herself."

"They're not built for that, don't worry." Chakotay had his doubts, but didn't have the energy to argue. "I'll be right down."

"Thanks, Captain. Oh, and could you tell her … "

"Tell her what?"

There were so many things he wanted to say to Seven of Nine that his mouth ran dry for a moment, lost for words. Tell her not to be so damn careless with the life she almost lost – the life I almost took. Tell her I'm sorry. Tell her not to even think of selling us out again. Tell her I'll be watching. Tell her to remember Annika.

Finally he settled on, "Tell her to call me if she needs anything. If she's going to be a member of this crew, I suppose it's the First Officer's job to help her settle in."

"No need to sound so enthusiastic," she drawled. "I know what you're thinking, Chakotay." Did she really? "But I'm not giving up on her."

"I didn't think you would."

Despite all their disagreements, he still respected that about Kathryn, how she never gave up. And after this talk with Seven, disastrous as it had been, he could almost understand what Kathryn saw in her: something as fragile as a hand behind a force field, as fleeting as a tear … something stronger than an entire swarm of nanoprobes.

He didn't trust himself to be any kind of mentor to the Borg woman. He had too many mixed feelings about her, few of them rational. He wasn't even sure if he could treat her like an ordinary colleague. Could he really almost kill someone for trying to assimilate Voyager and then hand her a duty assignment as if nothing had happened?

But, by the bones of his ancestors, he was going to try.